Flying Legion

by George Allan England

  CHAPTER XLVI

  BOHANNAN BECOMES A MILLIONAIRE

  Like men in a dream, after the first wild emotions had died, theLegionaries peered down into this sea of light. Smoke from the lampsrose toward the dim, low-arched roof. Blood from the Maghrabi's woundsslowly spread and clotted on the golden floor.

  Without, a confused murmur told of resuming preparations to smash inthe door. And through it all, the dry clicking of the gems made itselfaudible, as the major sifted them with shaking fingers.

  "Well, men," the Master laughed dryly, "here they are! Here are thejewels of Jannati Shahr. Old Bara Miyan would probably have given us apeck or two of them, for Myzab and the Great Pearl Star and the BlackStone, if those hadn't been destroyed--"

  "How do you know they've been destroyed?" the major cried. "How do youknow but what we'll be rescued, here?"

  "If the bombardment had been going to begin, I think we'd have heardsomething of it, by now. My judgment tells me there'll be no explosivedropped on Jannati Shahr.

  "We've got to fight this thing through, unaided. And at any rate, wedon't have to limit ourselves to a peck or two of jewels. We've gotthem all, now--or they've got us!"

  The irony of his tone made no impression on Bohannan. His mercurialtemperament seemed to have gone quite to pieces, in view of the hoard.He cried:

  "Come on, then, boys! Fill up!"

  And with a wild laugh he began scooping the gems, hap-hazard, into thepockets of his torn, battle-stained uniform. Jewels of fabulous priceescaped his fingers, like so many pebbles in a sand-pit, and fellclicking to the golden floor. With shaking hands the major dredgedinto the pit before him, mad with a very frenzy of greed.

  "Stop!" cried the Master, sternly. "No nonsense, now!"

  "What?" retorted Bohannan, angrily. His bruised, cut face reddenedominously.

  "Drop those jewels, sir!"

  "Why?"

  "Principally because I order you to!" The Master's voice was cold,incisive. "They're worthless, now. No make-weights! We can't havemake-weights at a time like this. To think of jewels at such an hour!Throw them back!"

  A flash of rage distorted the major's face. His blue eyes burned withstrange fire.

  "Never!" he shouted, crouching there at the brink of the jewel-pit."Call it insubordination, mutiny, anything you like, but I'm going tohave my fill of these! Faith, but I _will_, now!"

  "Sir--"

  "I don't give a damn! Jewels for mine!" His voice rose gusty, raw,wild. "I've been a soldier of fortune all my life, and that's how I'mgoing to die. Poor, most of the time. Well, I'm going to die rich!"

  His philippic against poverty and discipline tumbled out in a torrentof wild words, strongly tinged with the Irish accent that marked hispassionate excitement. He sprang to his feet, and--raging--faced hissuperior officer. He shouted:

  "Sure, and I've knocked up and down this rotten old world all my life,a rolling stone with never enough to bless myself with. And I've gone,at the end, on this wild-goose chase of yours, that's led you andme and all of us to a black death here in the bottom of a damned,fantastic, Arabian city of gold!

  "That's all right, dying. That was in the bargain, if it had to bedone. Two-thirds of us are dead, already, a damn sight better menthan I am! We've been dying right along, from the beginning of thiscrack-brained Don Quixote crusade. That's all right. But, faith! nowthat it's my turn to die, by the holy saints I'm going to be well paidfor it!"

  Bohannan, eyes wild, struck his heaving breast with a huge fist andlaughed like a maniac.

  "That's all right, you reaching for your gun!" he defied the Master."Go ahead, shoot! I'm rich already. My pockets are half full. Shoot,damn you, shoot!"

  The Master laughed oddly, and let his hand fall from the pistol-butt.

  "This," said he quite calmly, "is insanity."

  "Ha! Insanity, it is? Well then, let me be insane, can't you? It's agood way to die. And I've _lived_, anyhow. We've all lived. We've allhad a Hell of a run for our money, and it's time to quit.

  "Shoot, if you want to--a few minutes more or less don't matter. But,faith, I'll die a millionaire, and that's something I neverexpected to be. Fine, fine! Give me a minute more, and I'll diea multi-millionaire! Sure, imagine that, will you? Major AloysiusBohannan, gentleman-adventurer, a multi-millionaire! That's what I'llbe, and the man don't live that can stop me now!"

  With the laugh of a madman, the major fell to his knees again besidethe pit, plunged his hands once more into the gleaming, sliding massof wealth, and recommenced cramming his pockets.

  The Master laughed again.

  "It's quite immaterial, after all," said he. "I led you into this.And now it's very nearly a case of _sauve qui peut_. The sooner yourpockets are full, to the extreme limit, the sooner something likereason will return to you. Jewels being of interest to a man atdeath's door--it's quite characteristic of you, Bohannan. Helpyourself!"

  "Thanks, I will!" Bohannan flung up at him, blood-drabbled face paleand drawn by the flaring lamplight. "A _multi_-millionaire! Death? Ishould worry! Help myself? Faith, I just will, that!"

  "Anyone else, here, feel so disposed?" the Master inquired. "If so,get it over and done with. We've got fighting ahead, and we'd betterquench whatever thirst there is for wealth, first."

  No one made any move. Only Bohannan's mind had been unsettled by thehoard, to the extent of wanting to possess it. Now that death loomed,empty pockets were as good, to all the rest, as any other sort.

  "You're all a pack of damned fools!" Bohannan sneered. "You could diericher than Rockefeller, every man-jack of you, and you--you don'twant to! Sure, it's _you_ that's mad, not me!"

  No one answered. They all stood peering down at him, their facestense, wounded, dirty; their eyes gleaming strangely; the shadow ofAzrael's wing already enfolding them. Then, a few detached themselvesfrom the little group and wandered off into the gloom, away from thepits. Leclair muttered:

  "I prefer loading my automatic, to loading my pockets! Odd, the majoris, eh? Ah well, _a chacun sa chimere!_"

  "Everybody's weapons fully loaded?" the Master demanded. "Be sure theyare! And don't forget the mercy-bullets, men. These Arabs are ratheringenious in their tortures. They make a specialty of crucifyingunbelievers--upside down. That sort of thing won't do, for us not forfighting-men of the Legion!"

  Bohannan, laughing, stood up. Every pocket was a-bulge withincalculable wealth.

  "Now I'm satisfied," he remarked in more rational tones. "I reckon Imust be worth more money, as I stand here, than any human being thatever lived. You're looking at the richest man in the world, gentlemen!And I'm going to die, the richest. If that's not some distinction,what is? For a man that was bone-poor, fifteen minutes ago! Now, sir--"

  A sudden cry interrupted him. That cry came from "Captain Alden."

  "Here! Look here!"

  "What is it?" demanded the Master. He started toward her, whileoutside the door sounded dull commands, as if the Arabs-now organizedto effective work-were already preparing to blow open the last barrierbetween them and their victims.

  "What now?" the Master repeated, striding toward her.

  "_See! See here!_"